The Great American Novel. It stands as one of the holy grails of world literature, with Twain, Melville, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Vonnegut and several others comprising an elite group of writers who have distilled the spirit of their country into stunning prose. As Lindesay Irvine has argued in these pages, it is not unfair to say American writers have an ability to mould their nations' rich vernacular into great literature that has eluded many of their notable British counterparts. America, the land of the opportunity, has a younger, more liberated sensibility. Literature from these isles, it was said, is often chained to the tongues of Milton and Shakespeare, shackled to the library table while American novelists roam freely through the streets.

Of course such generalisations about two of the world's great literary traditions, no matter how truthful, are bound to generate as much heat as light. There is a sort of nationalism of the tongue that inspires patriotic fervor in those that would normally scoff at lads proudly flaunting flags at a football tournament. But where there can be debates over the merits of individual British novelists against their American equivalents, the real debate could lie in existence or possibility of the Great British Novel; if there is a work that truly captures a shared national self-perception. There is no doubt that we have produced brilliant novelists, each producing powerful individual novels, but maybe Britain lacks the foundational mythology and coherent national identity for each of these great minds to tap into a shared well of Britishness that speaks to all, both in the library and the street.

The United States, the city upon a hill, the land of the free, and more recently, the beacon of liberty shining its light across the world; these are all foundational myths that Americans are taught to value and share. Whether they are agreed on or not, they will always be a lingering presence in the American consciousness, powerful themes ready to be pressed through the filter of the age by the novelist. In a way, from its conception American history has been a story, a grand narrative flowing from liberation from English tyranny through to Manifest Destiny up into the great, gaudy spree of the twenties and beyond.

Britishness on the other hand is impossible to slice up into booming historical phrases. As many would be quick to point out, after the introduction of citizenship tests quizzing prospective Britons on Henry VIII and Churchill, and Gordon Brown - desperate to appear British instead of Scottish - proudly declaring his support for England at the World Cup, much to the anger of many Scots, there is a spiralling confusion over what Britishness actually is. From Jeremy Paxman to Andrew Marr there is a current vogue for "searching" for the British or, conversely, the English, with a sort of collective yearning for a coherent national identity whatever it may be. With such confusion it is no surprise that our writers have struggled to tap into a shared vernacular or myth that speaks to us all.

But maybe I'm wrong. I have avoided mentioning any specific works as there is nothing in my mind that genuinely serves that purpose. But maybe there are novels, plays or poems that you feel capture the essence of Britishness or Englishness, whether individually or collectively. Is there such thing as the Great British Novel and if so, what are your suggestions?